


we'll tak a cup of kindness yet

by poludeuces



Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: LB3 Spoilers, M/M, let my gay uncles kiss maybe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:00:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28462767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poludeuces/pseuds/poludeuces
Summary: gordolf decides to spend new year's eve alone. holmes pops in.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes | Ruler/Goldolf Musik
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16





	we'll tak a cup of kindness yet

**Author's Note:**

> hello
> 
> \- this takes place after the events of lb3. i like to think that the month of release is when the story chapter is happening (even if that is probably not the case).   
> \- so spoilers to lb2 and lb3 and the lb prologue  
> \- op pushes his traditions onto characters

From where Gordolf is sitting, he can hear a little bit of music, sometimes cut by loud shouts or laughter. He leans over and turns the dial of his gramophone - tonight he's indulging with Schubert - to increase the volume. His attention returns back to the paper on his desk. da Vinci had handed him some extra paperwork ‘to do when he had the time’, and on the eve of the new year, he found himself alone in his room.

Not that he _wanted_ to be out there, of course. It had been a rough year, and the poison’s effects still made his mind groggy. 

They had to change their plans for him and he was still the outsider, the force that changed everything. They would probably prefer to keep him out of the celebrations. He twirled the pen in his hand.

He had done a good job on Christmas. The cooking servants were kind enough to help him out with his banquet, and the tired look on Ritsuka’s face appeared to turn into a soft smile. He hoped his apology came across.

It would be awkward and uncomfortable for him to butt in for New Year’s celebration. Holiday dinner was painful enough. Gordolf leafs through the paperwork, dog-tags the corners. He looks up at the door. The voices still cut through the music - it’s an hour to midnight, so they will probably be up for much longer. Who knows when he’ll sleep tonight?

His stomach rumbles and he sighs. He could really go for making some food right about now. But he did not want to interrupt the festivities. It sounded like they were having fun.

Best not bother them.

He’s about to swivel back to face his desk again when the door is flown open. The figure in the doorframe is easily recognizable. Gordolf is not one-hundred percent familiar with everyone in Chaldea yet, and definitely not all of Ritsuka’s servants, but there are very few who stand so tall and are so remarkably thin. Even without the spider-like appendages sprouting from his back, there is no man who’s profile is more well-known.

“Holmes,” Gordolf sighs, but beckons him inside. Holmes takes the invitation and strides into the room. 

“My dear Gordolf Muzik,” Holmes begins, as he makes sure to close the door properly, “I have been looking for you for most of the night!” He walks over to the desk and starts pulling things out from apparently nowhere. “Admittedly, I do not mind a little bit of a chase - what is a detective if not someone who is a master of finding those who hide - but I did not expect to find you here, stashed away in your room on New Year’s Eve!”

He prattles on and Gordolf instead pays attention to the things Holmes places onto the desk. There’s his decorated cane, that Gordolf has seen Holmes defeat his enemies with, a flask of a black label whiskey, a couple of cigars, and a plastic bag. Gordolf moves to open the bag when Holmes hits his hand. 

“Patience, Director!” 

Gordolf shakes his hand to divert some of the pain, “What is it?”

“You did not answer my question,” Holmes crosses his arms and looks down at him.

“I’m sure the World’s Greatest Detective could figure that out for himself.” Gordolf pushes himself from the desk to walk to the corner of his room, grabbing the black label on the way. The benefits of being director meant that his room was not completely stripped bare - he had thrown in a couple of touches to make things seem livelier. 

He looks back at Holmes, “Do you take anything with your whiskey?” 

Holmes shakes his head, “No, just straight, thank you.” 

Gordolf nods and reaches into his cabinet and pulls out an identical set of whiskey glasses. There’s a pair of matching armchairs in his room, and a small table that sits between them. He throws coasters, branded with Chaldea’s insignia, onto the table before pouring about two inches worth of whiskey in each glass. He places a couple of ice cubes in his own for good measure, before sighing softly into the chair. 

Holmes watches him all the while, and Gordolf gestures to the other chair. “Are you going to just stand there, or do you want to sit down?”

The ruler smirks and brings the bag and cigars over. “Do you smoke, Director?” He flips the case open, and offers one to him. 

Gordolf shakes his head and takes a sip of the whiskey. It’s high quality. He’s about to be surprised at Holmes for even being able to procure some, but this was Chaldea, and he was Sherlock Holmes - famous for his ties to everything and everyone. 

“No, the whiskey will do me just fine.”

“Then I do hope you do not mind me smoking in your room. Do not worry about the lingering smell - I have created a contraption that will remove it all but completely. If not, then I do have some smelling salts that will overpower any lingering scent.” 

Gordolf once again shakes his head, “No, you brought them, you might as well enjoy them.”

“Thank you, Director.”

Holmes nods and with delicate fingers pulls a cigar out of the case. He reaches for his pockets and withdraws an army knife, cutting the end, and lights it quickly with a match. He then leans back into his armchair, one hand holding his whiskey, the other his cigar, looking absolutely content with himself. 

“And what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Mr. Holmes?” Gordolf asks. He had needed a break - and the whiskey was good - but there was still paperwork to be completed. 

“It is as I said - I had been looking for you all night,” Holmes answers. He tuts his lips around the cigar before taking a draw. He exhales out a perfect circle. 

“That doesn’t answer the question of ‘why’.”

Holmes cocks his head to the side and looks up at the ceiling. “True, true. Perhaps it is the same as yours.”

Gordolf furrows his brow. “People would be happy to see you at the celebrations, Holmes.”

“Ah yes, those celebrations. It is clear that da Vinci and Miss Kyrielight put a lot of effort into the organization of those things, but they are far too chatty for me. Best to steal some goodies and then leave,” Holmes says, lifting the bag up. He tosses a box at Gordolf that he narrowly misses catching it. A chocolate orange. 

Holmes takes another puff of his cigar. “But you celebrated on Christmas, did you not? Your roast was absolutely divine, by the way.”

“Thank you,” Gordolf replies. 

“Then I do not see why you don’t feel comfortable ringing in the new year with the rest of our companions,” Holmes says. He drinks a bit of his whiskey before resting the glass on his knee.

Gordolf sighs and swirls his glass. The ice cubes clink. “It has been a tough year.”

“That it has - I did not predict my body being torn apart like that!” Holmes laughs, throwing his head back a little. Gordolf shakes the image that springs to mind. Holmes' tattered coat, his hair unruly, the blood on the snow... 

“I felt...that my presence would act as a reminder to those hardships,” Gordolf explains carefully. His fingers tap the glass in his lap. He holds himself to keep his leg from bouncing. Toole’s reminders keep him steady.

“But did we not push past those hardships?” Holmes asks. “You are not left unscathed, either. Best not drink too much if the poison is still affecting you.”

Gordolf blinks in surprise but Holmes waves it away, “You’ve been eating less, textbook of someone who is still apprehensive from a poisoning attempt. I would wager you’ve lost seven pounds, and that is after your recovery. Further, I saw you asking EMIYA to test everything before feeding them to Ritsuka.”

Gordolf sighs, “Attentive as always, Holmes.”

“If it makes you feel better, I doubt that woman will try such an attack again. You can feel safe with your food.” He pauses to take a sip of his whiskey, and he uses his cigar to point at the door, “And to go and celebrate with them. You have definitely made an imprint on young Ritsuka.”

Gordolf sets his drink down on the side table and starts working on opening the chocolate orange. “Perhaps, instead of meddling, you could let this recovering man relax for new year’s.”

A flash of surprise passes Holmes’ face but he closes his mouth and nods, “Yes, of course.” 

Gordolf snaps a piece of chocolate off and chews it softly. It’s nostalgic for Christmases in London. Toole filled his stockings with these. 

“Are those to your liking? I have other treats I stole from the party if you want something else.”

Gordolf shakes it away, “No, no, this is lovely. Thank you, Holmes.”

The detective smiles and places his cup on the table so it sits next to Gordolf’s own. He reaches down and pulls out a box of chocolate buttons, ripping the bag and popping a few in his mouth. The cigar burns dimly.

The song changes. 

“ _Der Erlkönig,_ ” Holmes says with a smile, “A little dark for this evening, don’t you think? Schubert was a favourite of mine, but you must listen to Mozart in person - just not on nights like these. Might I suggest some Tchaikovsky instead? It is still the season for _The Nutcracker_ , just do not play too loudly or Napoleon might hear it.” He stands up and carefully pulls the needle from the record. He turns back to face Gordolf, “Does the fireplace work?”

“Yes,” Gordolf says, taken aback by how quickly Holmes bounces from one topic to the other. 

As he’s about to stand up, Holmes pushes him back into this chair. “Do not worry, my dear Director, I am sure I can figure it out.”

And he does, albeit it does not take a genius. The fireplace erupts with a roar. The Wandering Sea is not that cold, really, but the heat from the fireplace is welcome. 

Gordolf watches him. Holmes, standing by the fireplace, cradling his cigar, it feels straight of a novel. Well… 

It was no mystery that he was an attractive man. That defined brow, his slicked back hair that made his head look like a black pearl, his nose that defined his famous profile. Whether deep in thought or teasing, it would be easy for him to look like the smartest man in the room (which often, he was). But he rarely flaunted this, unlike some of the more scientific servants. It upset Gordolf how many times he had had to ask Holmes for some context, but he never chided him for it. It was something admirable in any man, and even more so for a man as intelligent as The Sherlock Holmes.

This handsomeness - Gordolf is once again reminded of the famous actors who had portrayed him. He took this time to pick apart his appearance - how many attributes from each interpretation? Or were they all based on the real man? 

The flames danced in Holmes’ eyes as he studied the fire. He blew out another ring of smoke before he turned to face Gordolf again. “And it is with this that I have fulfilled my duty for the night.”

Gordolf blinked in surprise, “Pardon?”

Holmes smiles softly, “Dear Director, do you have any traditions for New Year’s?”

He thought for a second. “Our family preferred a quiet one - stay at home, order some food, watch the ball drop. One time Toole dragged us out and we agreed to stay home afterwards. Sometimes I made a fancy dinner. Nothing too fancy.”

Holmes nods, “Characteristic of a mage to seek a quiet New Year’s.” Before he can protest, Holmes raises his hand, “And, reminiscent of my Watson.”

He pushes himself up from the fireplace and walks towards him. “There is this story of a widow on New Year’s Eve. She was cold and poor, unable to feed her children, and a violent storm raged outside. She knew that if she did not get food or warmth soon she and her children would die.”

“You’re terrible at stories,” Gordolf interrupts him.

“Apologies, I am no Boswell,” Holmes tuts his lip. “Nevertheless, she is saved when a tall, dark, and handsome man comes in with three items.” He points with each sentence, “Something to drink, something to eat and something to keep warm.” The chocolates, the whiskey and now, the fire. 

“In my lifetime, it was our tradition for one of us to bring back these items, to ring in a successful year. I believe these traditions are still done in Scotland.”

“So you’re Scottish?”

Holmes cocks his eyebrow, “Perhaps! Or perhaps the good doctor is Scottish - or perhaps I am a dinosaur hunter. Some of the adaptations are astounding - the things that people have thought up!”

“I thought that you existed in reality,” Gordolf prods as he sits up.

Holmes laughs and approaches, “That’s the problem, Director. Which instance of The Great Detective am I? Guess you will have to solve it.”

“Or you could just tell me.”

“And what’s the fun in that, Director? I have shown you my methods, you can make your own deductions.” He leans in, so his nose is so close to brushing Gordolf’s own. The Director grabs onto his thighs to keep himself from moving forward. Holmes smirks. “And if you are to be my new Watson, then you must keep up.”

Gordolf blinks in confusion. “Pardon? Your new Watson? What, what do you mean about tha-”

He’s interrupted by a chaste kiss to his cheek. Holmes pulls away as quickly as ever, and he is striding to grab his cane again and make for the door. 

“Holmes!”

“Well, that was a splendid evening, I hope that you enjoyed yourself, please, have a good start to the new y-”

Gordolf interrupts him by bolting for the door. They stand, staring at each other for a while. Holmes’ eyes feel like daggers.

“Director.”

Gordolf swallows hard.

“I understand that you are still recovering, but I am not against using violence to get past you.” 

“At least. Finish the bottle with me.” 

Holmes furrows his brow.

“Don’t. Don’t you want to ring in the new year with me?”

“I fear I have disturbed you enough for the evening.”

Gordolf shakes his head, “No, no, please.” Holmes is about to counterattack when he interrupts him again. “How am I to be your Watson if you don’t spend more time with me? Do you not wish to celebrate with me?”

A blush rises up to the apples of Holmes’ cheeks that travels to his ears. He looks away and his lips twist. 

“So be it.”

“Do...do you want this?” 

Holmes pulls his lips into his mouth. “P-perhaps I had been...missing companionship. That...party is far too loud for me.” 

Gordolf sighs and smiles, “As long as you’re alright with spending it with me.”

Holmes turns and laughs, bright and clear. 

“Of course, you are the person I wish to spend it with the most.”

**Author's Note:**

> \- the tradition Holmes describes is the tradition that I celebrate. because of COVID I'm kind of home alone so I wanted to share that with someone. i hope you have something to drink, something to eat, and something to keep you warm  
> \- if sherlock could come home that would be great  
> \- stan gordolf i love him so much  
> \- lots of silly references in this one  
> \- the dinosaur hunter is a reference to an actual sherlock holmes movie you can watch rn  
> \- the schubert piece []() or the elf king is about an elf king who takes a boy from his father. hence sherlock being like um. a little dark. it's one of my favourites of schubert, and also in the sherlock movies moriarty likes schubert so i thought it would be a cool reference.  
> \- sherlock guessing his weight change is something he's able to do in the novels.  
> \- chocolate buttons and oranges are like, nostalgic of holiday time for me  
> \- holmes is canon mozart nerd  
> \- tchaikovsky line wrt napoleon is from a song tchaikovsky wrote about napoleon, but then napoleon became imperialistic which the composer disliked.   
> \- gordolf being the new watson is in reference to sherlock's interlude and also like. all of their interactions.
> 
> also watch granada holmes


End file.
